Child of Truth
by Gildir
Summary: Diana searches desperately for a young woman's lost baby. Set immediately after "Who Killed Myndi Mayer?"


**Child of Truth**

This story takes place immediately after _Wonder Woman_ (second series) #20, "Who Killed Myndi Mayer?" by George Pérez. The concept of parts of the story being told in the first person by Inspector Ed Indelicato comes from that issue. I do not own the characters in this story. Wonder Woman was created by William Moulton Marston, and is a trademark of DC Comics. The supporting characters in this story (Julia and Vanessa Kapatelis, Ed Indelicato, Mike Shands and Capt. Ablamsky) were created by George Pérez.

**1.**

Tales From the Front Lines  
by Edward Indelicato  
Chapter 9:  
"Child of Truth"

It was just after the end of the Myndi Mayer case. Lt. Shands and I were back at the precinct, finishing up the paperwork on Mayer and her boy-toy Skeeter. We had requested that Princess Diana come back with us from Bedford in case we had any more questions to ask her. I expected her to say she couldn't, that she had to go fight a maniacal Mayan god or something, but to my surprise she rode back with us. The whole way I could barely keep my eyes on the road, thinking about the lady in the back seat. Shands kept looking over at me with amusement, like he knew exactly what was going on in my head.

About 10 a.m., while Shands was taking the Princess' full statement about what happened at the warehouse, I heard sobbing coming from the front desk. I didn't think too much of it – people who come into a police station are usually not at their best. For all I knew, this person could have lost her wallet or just seen the person she loved most in the world die in front of her. It was definitely a woman's voice, though – young girl, by the sound of it. The Princess stopped talking to Shands and looked toward the sound. That incomparable face was filled with concern.

"Lieutenant, may I interrupt my statement for a moment?" she asked. "I want to see if I can render assistance to that young woman in any way."

So the three of us got up and went out to the front desk to see what was going on. Sergeant Barrett was talking to a young woman – maybe early twenties, maybe younger. Her face was stained with tears. Barrett glanced up at us; then his face went through the changes any straight guy's does when he sees her.

"Her name's Miriam Nelson, Inspector," he said, nodding at the girl in front of the desk. "Says her baby was snatched from in front of Filene's downtown."

"How old was the baby?" Shands asked.

"Three months," Barrett said. "It was – it is a boy," he corrected himself awkwardly.

Shands and I exchanged a look. Every cop knows the longer a kid's been missing, the less likely it's correct to refer to him in the present tense.

"When'd this happen?" I asked.

"A couple of hours ago," Miriam Nelson said, speaking to us for the first time. "I – I didn't know what to do –"

The Princess stepped over to her, her dark hair glistening on her flawless shoulders.

"Miriam?" she said in that musical voice. "Forgive me for intruding. We both have statements to make to the police, but once that is done, perhaps you can show me where your child disappeared."

The girl looked up at her, confused.

"You…" she said in surprise. "Aren't you – Wonder Woman?"

"My name is Diana," the Princess said gently. "And I want to help you find your son."

**2.**

Downtown Crossing – still better known to those of a slightly older generation as Washington Street – was crowded with afternoon shoppers. The two young women paused at the corner of Washington and Summer Street, outside one of the entrances of Filene's. A few passersby stopped and stared for a moment at the famous woman in the red, white and blue uniform, but were respectful of her privacy and kept on walking.

"This is where I last saw Jonathan," Miriam Nelson said, tight-voiced. Having already told the police her story, she seemed somewhat calmer as she repeated it to Diana. "I turned away from the carriage for just a minute to look in the window, and when I turned back he was gone."

The police had already completed their preliminary investigation here at the presumed crime scene. Inspector Indelicato had told them that interviews of bystanders had turned up nothing – as was to be expected, given that Miriam had been too distraught to go to the police station for two hours after Jonathan was taken. The only people who might still be nearby all these hours later were the street vendors, and they had seen nothing. Miriam had been urged to go home and get some rest, but had insisted on accompanying Diana to the scene of her child's disappearance.

"Have the police examined the carriage for any clues?" Diana asked.

"The carriage?" Miriam said, confused. "The carriage… I can't remember what I did with it. I think I pushed it around for hours, calling out my baby's name. I just came into Boston from Springfield, so I didn't even know where I was going…"

She started to sob. Diana laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, which seemed to calm her. She spoke again, more softly this time.

"'My latest found, Heav'n's last, best gift, my ever-new delight!'"

"Milton, _Paradise Lost_," Diana said, recognizing the quote with surprise.

"You know it?" Miriam asked, distracted for a moment from her worry. "I loved poetry when I was in high school – reading _and_ writing it – but I didn't think many people read Milton nowadays."

"I studied many of the literary works of Man's World when I first came to Boston," Diana explained. "My friend and mentor, Julia Kapatelis, guided my course of study. I am sure she will advise and assist us in finding your baby. I am still something of a stranger to this city myself."

Miriam's worry returned to her face, but she also now seemed strangely nervous. _Almost wary_, Diana thought, reminded of the look of a hunted deer.

"I trust _you_," Miriam said, with a slight, curious emphasis on the last word. "I know you'll help me. We will find him, Diana – won't we?"

"Yes, Miriam," Diana said firmly. "I promise you – we will find your son. I swear it in the name of Gaea herself."

**3.**

**4:15 p.m., Mystic Street, Arlington:**

"…And that's why I came directly to you, Officer Ryan," Diana said. "The Boston police have put out an all-points bulletin for Jonathan Nelson, but I wanted to make sure that the Arlington police were aware of the situation."

"I promise you, Princess, we'll do all we can," the young officer said, perhaps more enthusiastically than was necessary. "We'll radio the child's description to all our officers on the road."

"Thank you, Officer. By the way – do you happen to know where the main police station in Somerville is?"

"It's on Washington Street, between Union Square and McGrath Highway. If you want, I could drive you over there."

Diana smiled a secret smile.

"I don't think that will be necessary," she said, and flew out the open window.

Officer Ryan gaped after her for a moment, and then slapped himself on the forehead.

"Dummy," he muttered under his breath.

**4:30 p.m., Morrissey Boulevard, Boston:**

"…And so the column will run in tomorrow's _Globe_?" Diana asked.

"Sure thing, Princess. A lost kid's more important than Ray Flynn's latest doings, I think. Of course, a lot of column space'll still be given over to the passing of your friend, Ms. Mayer. The vultures will be circling that corpse for a while." The reporter looked embarrassed. "Sorry. No offence."

"None taken. We have vultures on Themyscira, and the metaphor is familiar to me." Diana turned to leave. "Thank you again, Mike. I appreciated the positive coverage I received in your publication after the Ares Affair, although my friends Steve and Etta seem to think that it merely reflected an anti-military bias on the _Globe_'s part."

"Well, is it any wonder we come across that way when there are nuts like General Kohler around?" Mike asked. "If all warriors were like you, we wouldn't have anything to complain about. Not unless an army of Amazons descended on Washington or something –"

But Diana was already gone.

**4:45 p.m., Commonwealth Avenue, Boston:**

"…I already spoke to the news director at your station, but I wanted to ask you personally to put out an appeal on your show tonight," Diana said. "My friend Professor Kapatelis and I both think you are the most intelligent host on the radio, and –"

"Consider it done. Fortunately, there is no exciting hockey game tonight, so…"

**5:00 p.m., Soldiers Field Road, Boston:**

"Did Miriam have a picture of him to give the cops?" the chubby TV reporter asked.

"A light-image, you mean? A photograph?" Diana frowned slightly. "I do not believe so."

"Weird." The reporter also frowned, and rubbed his hand through his already receding hair. "Well, I'll see what I can do, but I don't know how much time the higher-ups will give the story without a picture of the kid. TV is all about pictures, y'know. Maybe that's why I'm thinking of switchin' to a newspaper. They can use a picture of you from ten years ago, and your public can't see how fat and bald you're getting."

"How strange Man's World still is to me," Diana mused. "On Paradise Island we learn to look beneath the surface and see the true beauty of the soul."

"Yeah, but you're all lookers there, aren't you?" the reporter asked, a glint in his eye.

"We all can see, if that is what you mean."

The reporter sighed.

"Never mind," he said. "Like I said – I'll see what I can do. Good luck finding the kid."

**4.**

"Why can't you simply search every inch of the Earth's surface?" Vanessa Kapatelis asked.

Her mother, Julia Kapatelis, chuckled. They were in the living room of the Kapatelis summer home in Wakefield, where Professor Kapatelis and her daughter had been staying since their Beacon Hill home was destroyed by the mystic powers of a creature of ancient Greek myth named Decay. Princess Diana, now wearing a simple white dress, stood with her back to the window, her arms folded, considering what to do next.

"That would take a long time, even for Diana, Nessie," the gray-haired woman said. Although she smiled, her eyes remained serious.

"But she has the speed of Hermes!" the teenager persisted. "_And_ she can fly! Couldn't you just – well – go everywhere?"

"I do not have the right to enter people's private homes, Vanessa," Diana explained. "If – when – the person who took Jonathan is identified, it is the police who must act."

"But you'll be there to help them, right?" Vanessa asked.

Diana smiled.

"Yes, Nessie," she said. "I gave Miriam Nelson my word, and I will achieve it."

**5.**

She was in Shands' and my office the next morning. We didn't see her come in. When I glanced up from some paperwork, there she was, standing in front of my desk; all of a man's dreams come true in one perfect woman. But why should two bleary-eyed cops still waiting for their morning joe have seen the arrival of a woman who could move with the speed of Hermes?

"Is there any news on the Jonathan Nelson case, Inspector?" she asked.

I had to restrain myself from saying Please, call me Ed. In the circumstances, it would have seemed unprofessional. A time and a place, Eddie, I thought. A time and a place.

"Nothing yet, Princess," I said aloud. "I've heard from several departments in the area that they're on the lookout, but so far we've got no leads."

"Thank you, Inspector." That incredible face was both disappointed and confused. "One thing puzzles me. Perhaps I do not understand because I was the only child on Paradise Island, but – why would anyone wish to take a child from its mother? Why not allow her to continue to raise it?"

Across the room, I saw Shands' eyebrows shoot up at the Princess' naivete. (Note to self: That word doesn't look right. It needs one of those fancy French accent marks. Remember to look up in the dictionary later where it should go.)

"There are some women who are desperate for a child, Your Highness," he explained. "If they can't have one of their own, they'll take one from someone else. But that's not the only reason."

"What other reason could there be?" the Princess asked, her blue eyes turning to me.

"A kid can be a valuable commodity," I said. "Some people want a child so much they're willing to pay thousands of bucks for one, if they can't adopt legally."

"So a child may be taken from one parent and sold to someone else," Diana said, nodding slowly. "I should have known that. The idea is familiar to me, although I cannot remember how."

"But that's not the worst reason," I said heavily. "If you don't already know, you'll find out sooner or later…"

And I told her, wishing I could take my eyes off that expressive face but unable to do so. First she was horrified, then angry (and more beautiful than ever that way), then terribly, terribly sad. My heart sank down to my Filene's Basement shoes. For crying out loud, why did Shands and I always have to be the ones to tell her these things? Hadn't that Harvard professor she hung out with wised her up to the ways of the world?

"Thank you for telling me, Inspector," she said when I had finished. "Now I know better how urgent our search is, and I will not rest until I find Miriam Nelson's child."

And with that, as they say, she was gone. Shands leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head, chuckling.

"She really gets to you, doesn't she?"

"Yeah. And why not you, Mike?" I snapped. "Something wrong with your eyes?"

"I'm a married man!" he said, a look of smug innocence on his face.

"Yeah, I know…" I sighed, already regretting my tone. It's not a good idea to antagonize the guy who might be watching your back in a dark alley that night. But Shands looked at me sympathetically.

"I'll admit, she's as lovely as a dream," he said. "But that's all she is to guys like us, Eddie – a dream. And I prefer reality."

**6.**

Diana walked up to the door of the apartment in Hyde Park and rang the bell. When there was no answer, she rang it again and waited. After a couple of minutes, the window of the apartment upstairs opened. A short, swarthy man stuck his head out.

"Can I help you?" he called down to her in a somewhat raspy voice. When Diana craned her head back to look up at him, he appeared startled, clearly recognizing her.

"I was just looking for Miriam Nelson. I am a friend of hers, and I wanted to check on her and tell her how the search for her child is progressing. Is she not at home?"

"Miriam Nelson?" The man still seemed startled. "You mean the girl who lost her baby? I saw the story in the news, but – she doesn't live here."

"She does not live here?" Diana repeated. It was her turn to be startled now. "But this is the address she gave me."

"There must be some mistake," the man said. "That's old Mrs. Garabedian's apartment. She's on Cape Ann for the week with her grandson."

"I see," Diana said slowly. "As you said, there must be some mistake. Thank you for your help, sir."

"No problem, Wonder Woman. Any time," the man said, watching Diana as she walked away, lost in thought.

**7.**

Dr. Alan Collins, head of obstetrics at Springfield Hospital, looked nervously across his desk at the woman seated on the other side. Although she was wearing a white dress rather than her battle armor, he had seen her often enough on television and in magazines, and there was no denying who she was.

"As I'm sure you'll understand, Princess Diana, confidentiality rules prevent us from releasing information about our patients to anyone," Collins said, his mouth dry. "The only reason I can tell you anything is that there's nothing to tell you. No woman named Miriam Nelson has given birth here in the last year."

Diana nodded, her face serious, almost grim.

"That is what I expected you to tell me, Doctor," she said, "since it is what I have been told by the other hospitals in your city. Thank you for your help."

"You're more than welcome," Dr. Collins said, wondering whether he was being too polite, or not polite enough, and what his wife would say if she knew to whom he was speaking right now. He half expected Wonder Woman to fly out the window or something, but instead she nodded politely at him and walked out of his office, her head bowed in thought.

**8.**

She gave me the bad news by phone. (I guess even an immortal Amazon with the speed of Hermes sometimes lets her fingers do the walking.) At first I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but when she had given me all the details I sat and thought things over for a moment.

"Princess," I said carefully, "there are an awful lot of gaps and inconsistencies in this girl's story. She says that Jonathan disappeared a couple of hours before she came to us. No matter how distraught she might have been, I can't believe any mom would wait that long to tell the police her kid had been snatched."

"Go on, Inspector," the Princess said, her tone equally cautious.

"Then there's the carriage," I said. "She doesn't know what she did with it, can't even describe it. We called all the stores around there, and no one turned in a lost baby carriage. It might as well have vanished into thin air. And as for her not having a picture of the baby…"

I let my voice trail off skeptically. On the other end of the line, the Princess remained silent, waiting. I sighed deeply, feeling the mother of all migraines coming on.

"We don't even know for sure that she's from Springfield. Nothing she told us checks out. Princess, have you considered the possibility that –" I hesitated again. "– that the child may not exist?"

"No!" she said forcefully, with more fire than I had ever heard from her before. "I cannot believe that."

"But, Princess, it sure seems like –"

"Inspector, I know that you believe in the power of Hestia's lasso," she said more calmly. "Please believe me also when I tell you that I know when most people are lying, even without the lasso. I am absolutely certain that Miriam was telling me the truth."

And there we had it. All the evidence on one hand, stacked up against the word of the one lady on Earth I was least likely to disbelieve on the other. As tough a problem as how to sink the Central Artery.

No idea what we would have done, if the girl hadn't shown up the next day on Professor Kapatelis' doorstep.

**9.**

"I need to see Diana," the frightened-looking young woman said to Julia Kapatelis. "Please, won't you tell her I'm here?"

Julia hesitated. Protecting her friend's privacy was a sacred duty to her. If she hadn't had a pretty good idea of who this young woman likely was, she might not have let her inside the house.

Five minutes later, Diana and Miriam Nelson were seated together on the living room sofa. Julia stood nearby, listening, in plain sight but not interrupting their conversation.

"Where have you been?" Diana asked. "You had us all so worried, and when I went to your apartment –"

"I gave the police a false address," Miriam said. Before Diana could say anything, she added, "I know you'll say it was wrong, that it'll hinder the investigation, but – I couldn't tell them where I was really staying."

"But why, Miriam?"

"Because –" The young woman was close to tears. "Because my baby's father is stalking me."

There was a moment of appalled silence.

"That's why I came to Boston, to get away from him," Miriam said desperately. "I'm afraid he may have taken Jonathan. Don't you see? I couldn't tell them where I was living!"

"But you can trust the police!" Diana protested gently. "Inspector Indelicato is a good man –"

"I don't trust anyone but you, Diana," Miriam said. Smiling through her tears, she added shyly, "After all, if you can't trust Wonder Woman, who can you trust?"

"Well, if you're here, you must trust Julia as well," Diana replied, glancing up at her friend with a hint of amusement.

"I wasn't sure I did at first, when you mentioned her to me," Miriam said. "I only came because I couldn't stand waiting any longer. Is there any news, Diana? Do they have any idea where my baby is?"

"I'm afraid not," Diana said sadly. "You have to be strong and brave now, Miriam."

"I don't feel brave," Miriam said. "I guess you're brave enough for both of us, though."

Julia cleared her throat.

"If it would help ease matters, young lady, you can stay here for the time being," she said. "That way no one will know where you are, but you'll hear immediately if there's any word."

Miriam glanced up gratefully at her. At that moment, they heard the sound of Vanessa coming in the front door. She entered the room, dumping her backpack on the floor, and noticed Miriam's presence with surprise.

"This is Miriam Nelson, Nessie," Julia said. "Diana has offered to let her stay with us until her baby is found, because she's not been comfortable staying by herself. Don't you think that's a good idea?"

"What? Oh, sure thing, Mom, that's fine," Vanessa said uncertainly. "Can I go watch TV before dinner?"

"How much homework do you have?" her mother asked.

"Not a lot," Vanessa said. "Just a paper for Social Studies, and studying for the algebra quiz tomorrow."

"That might take a while," Julia said. "Don't you think you'd better start before dinner, sweetie?"

"I suppose," Vanessa said reluctantly.

"And be sure to work on those quadratic equations that were giving you trouble before," Julia called after her as she ascended the stairs. "And no calling Barry Locatelli until you're done."

"I know, Mom!" Vanessa called back down in an aggrieved tone.

**10.**

It was another ordinary day at the precinct. Coffee that tasted like rancid machine oil. Drunks making too much noise in the cells. No break in the Miriam Nelson case.

That is, until 7:40 p.m., twenty minutes before my shift ended, when I glanced idly at the wall of missing-persons posters and saw a familiar face. A very familiar face, attached to a not-so-familiar name.

Back at my desk, I had my hand stretched out to call the Princess at Professor Kapatelis' home when the phone rang. I completed the motion and answered it.

"Inspector Indelicato?" the young man's voice on the other end said. "I was told by the Boston Police switchboard you're investigating the case of that child who vanished in downtown Boston the other day."

"You heard right," I said warily. "Me and my partner, Lieutenant Shands."

"My name is Johnny Wade," the young man said. "I saw the news coverage, and I have some information you need to know. You see, I'm the young woman's former boyfriend." He paused, and then added, somewhat uncomfortably, "The father of her baby."

"I'm listening," I said, reaching for a pen and a pad of paper.

"The first thing you need to know," Johnny Wade said, "is that her name isn't Miriam Nelson."

"I know. Go on."

**11.**

In the middle of that night, Vanessa Kapatelis dreamed that she was thirsty; and when she awoke from the dream, she found that she _was_ thirsty. Pushing back her sheets, she tiptoed out of her room and down the hall to the bathroom, careful not to awaken any of the three women in the house.

She got a drink of water and walked back past the guest bedroom where Miriam Nelson was staying. (Diana had volunteered to sleep on the couch, reminding them that she had often slept outdoors on Paradise Island.) As Vanessa passed Miriam's door, she was stopped in her tracks by a strange noise coming from inside. It sounded as though Miriam was singing.

She was singing a lullaby.

As Vanessa listened, confused, the melody faltered and ceased, to be followed by the sound of Miriam moaning and crying.

"Jonathan," Vanessa heard Miriam say through the door. "My little boy, where are you? What did he do with you?"

Vanessa hurried soundlessly back to bed, ashamed to have heard what she had heard.

**12.**

There was a meeting in our office at 9 a.m. the next morning. Our boss, Captain Ablamsky, called it. Ablamsky is never the most cheerful of men, but after what I had to tell him last night, he was even less sociable than usual.

"Sit down," he growled at Princess Diana and the Professor as they entered the room. They joined me and Shands around the coffee table a sweating patrolman had hastily dragged in from the lunchroom.

"Inspector, do you know what this is about?" Professor Kapatelis asked me sotto voce. "Your captain called me at five this morning and asked Diana and myself to, and I quote, 'get our asses down here'."

"You're about to find out, Professor," Ablamsky said. Nothing wrong with his hearing, that's for sure. "There's someone else I've invited to join us."

"Mr. Wade is here, Captain," Sergeant Barrett said, sticking his head around the door frame.

"Send him in."

At the mention of Wade's name the Princess visibly tensed. The girl must have told her about him, I thought. A moment later, a nervous-looking young man entered the room. He couldn't have been over eighteen. He twisted a Red Sox cap in his hands as he surveyed the five of us; when he saw the Princess, his face went through the usual range of expressions. I winced inwardly, wondering what she had seen my face do the first time we met.

"Inspector Indelicato?" he asked uncertainly, and I recognized the voice I had heard over the phone.

"That's me," I said. "This is Captain Ablamsky, Lieutenant Shands, Professor Julia Kapatelis, and…"

"Yes, I – I know who you are," the kid said to the Princess. At Ablamsky's gesture, he sat down heavily.

"Your Highness, this is Mr. John Wade," said Shands, whom I had called before Ablamsky the previous night. "He's the former boyfriend of the young woman we've been helping."

"Johnny Wade," the Professor said coldly. "You, I take it, are the child's father?"

"Yes, ma'am," Wade said, almost withering beneath her glare.

"Inspector, I think you should know that Miriam accuses this young man of stalking her," Prof. Kapatelis said, turning to me. "She even believes he may have kidnapped little Jonathan."

"That doesn't surprise me," I said wearily. "But I think you should hear him out, Professor."

"I know that you and Wonder Woman will find this difficult to believe," Wade said nervously, "but I've never done Susan any harm. I – I still love her, and –"

"Susan? Who is Susan?" the Princess asked sharply.

"The young woman you know as Miriam Nelson," Wade said, "is really my friend Susan Walker."

The silence that ensued was nearly deafening. I looked up at Ablamsky, who had an expression on his face that I didn't like at all. I gave Shands a sidelong glance that said, We're screwed, buddy.

"Three months ago," Wade said shakily, "Susan gave birth to her – our baby boy. My parents really wanted her to terminate the pregnancy, but she wouldn't do it. She said it was her decision, hers alone. It didn't matter in the end, anyway. The baby was stillborn."

Now I glanced over at the Princess. She looked as shocked as when Shands told her the truth about who killed Myndi Mayer.

"It was awful at first," Wade continued. "She cried all day long, couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. Then it got worse, in a way. I went over to her folks' house one day and found her rocking her arms like there was a baby in them, singing and cooing to herself. But there was nothing in her arms. Nothing at all.

"'Isn't our baby beautiful, Johnny?' she said. 'I named him after you, you know. Jonathan Christopher Walker.'

"'Susan,' I said, 'our baby died.'

"'What do you mean?' she said, almost angrily. I should have stopped there, should have said something different, but, God help me, I pressed on.

"'Our baby was stillborn,' I said. 'He's gone, Susan. He's gone.'

"Susan stared at me for a moment. Then she threw her head back and started screaming, the most awful screams I ever heard. When her mom came running, she became hysterical, yelling that I was trying to hurt her and the baby. Her mom looked scared, but she asked me politely to leave. The next day, Susan vanished."

The Princess closed her eyes and sighed. Prof. Kapatelis looked shocked and sad. Capt. Ablamsky's face said, I'll get you two bums for this.

"Her family and I have been searching for her for two months. We didn't get a lead until I saw the newspaper story about Miriam Nelson. You see, 'Miriam Nelson' was a pen-name Susan used when we were in high school, to submit poems to literary magazines."

The Princess nodded, maybe remembering something the girl had said to her.

"I drove all night from Springfield as soon as I knew where she was," Wade said. "Her parents are following me this morning. I'm crazy to see her, make sure she's all right –"

"No," the Princess said flatly.

Wade stared at her in shock.

"Mr. Wade," the Princess went on, "I am certain that you are telling us the truth and that you mean Miriam – Susan – no harm. Surely, however, you must see that you may do her great harm by seeing her."

"She is terrified of you," Prof. Kapatelis said gently. "Your presence would only exacerbate her delusional state."

"But –" Wade weakly protested. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he bowed his head.

"I guess you're right," he said, sounding utterly drained and defeated. Tough cop I may be (on my good days, at least), but my heart bled for the kid.

"When do you expect Susan's parents to arrive in Wakefield, Mr. Wade?" the Princess asked more gently.

"Around noon."

"Then Julia and I should return immediately. I would like to speak to Susan alone before her parents come to her."

**13.**

Diana softly entered Susan's room. The young woman was sitting on the edge of her bed, rocking something in her arms. When she saw Diana, she looked up with a smile as radiant as the sunrise.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she said. "I found him outside the front door this morning! Whoever took him must have known how much I missed him and brought him back. Isn't that right, Jonathan?" she cooed.

Diana felt sad, and sick, and tired, all at once. The wisdom of Athena, the strength given to her by Demeter, had never prepared her for something like this.

"He's beautiful," Susan said. "So beautiful. Isn't he the most beautiful baby you've ever seen?"

All her life, Diana had been taught to place great value on truth. "If we do not have the truth, we have nothing," her mother had once said to her. And as a woman, she had been gifted with the instrument of truth: Hestia's lasso, which could elicit truth from the most deceitful of hearts.

Today Diana of Themyscira found within herself a new definition of truth. She smiled down at the empty space in Susan Walker's arms.

"He is a beautiful baby," she agreed. "He should grow up into a strong, wise man."

Diana paused as Susan continued to rock her arms, murmuring to the baby. Then she spoke again.

"I understand why you gave us a false name and address, Susan," she said.

The young woman glanced up in confusion.

"Susan?"

"Susan Walker. Isn't that your real name?"

The other woman still looked confused, and also a little frightened.

"My name's not Susan Walker. It's Miriam Nelson."

For a moment, Diana felt a cold fear that a terrible mistake had been made. But the young woman continued.

"I'm glad I'm not Susan Walker. I wouldn't want to be her, you know."

"Why not?"

"She was in high school with me. Her baby died. His name was Jonathan, just like mine. Jonathan…"

She glanced down at her arms again, and her whole body stiffened.

"Jonathan?" she said. Dropping her arms to her sides, she leapt up from the bed and looked frantically around the room. "Jonathan!" she screamed.

Whirling from side to side, searching desperately for her baby, her glance lighted upon Diana. She looked at her as though seeing her for the first time.

"What have you done with my baby?" she asked angrily. "You took him, didn't you! What have you done with him? Where is he? _Jonathan!_"

"I did not take your baby, Susan," Diana said sadly. "You must believe me –"

"I asked you, what have you done with him, you Amazon witch? Answer me, damn you!"

Diana simply stood there, looking at her. She made no move to resist when Susan slapped her, brutally, across the face. When the young woman collapsed on the bed, sobbing, she softly left the room.

**14.**

Shortly past noon, Julia Kapatelis gently led the sobbing Susan Walker out of her house and onto the front walk, where her parents were waiting for her. When Susan saw her mother, she hesitated for a moment, then ran to her and collapsed into her arms.

Tears gleaming in his eyes, Susan's father silently got behind the wheel of their car and started it up. Susan's mother placed her daughter in the back seat as carefully as if she were made of crystal, and then turned back to Diana and Julia.

"There's no way Frank and I can ever thank you enough, Wonder Woman," she said. "We were afraid – afraid she was lying hurt in the dark somewhere. You gave her back to us."

"I know," Diana said simply. "I still wish things could have been different."

"So do I," Mrs. Walker said, getting into the back seat next to Susan and taking her hand as she closed the door.

"What's on your mind, Diana?" Julia asked as the car drove away.

"Sad thoughts." Diana turned to look at her friend. "A woman I know once told me that there were formerly many universes parallel to this one, similar yet different. If that were still true, Susan might still have her baby somewhere. But Lyla says that now there is only one universe – the one we live in – and whatever happens here is all that happens."

"So little Jonathan is dead, even from a cosmic perspective," Julia said. She broke off, gazing down the street.

"Diana – do you know that dog down there? I don't recall ever seeing him in the neighborhood before."

Diana followed her gaze. The dog, a mutt with only three legs, was looking at the two of them. _Almost as though he wants to ask us something_, Julia thought, then shook her head at the absurdity of the idea.

"What _is_ he doing?" Julia wondered. "He's just standing in the middle of the street."

"He's looking for someone," Diana breathed.

A car moved along a side street between them and the dog. When it had passed, the dog was gone.

"Where did he go?" Julia asked, startled. "He can't have run away that quickly."

"His quest continues," Diana said. "May Artemis grant that it end more happily than Susan's."

**15.**

A few nights later, Princess Diana and I had dinner at the European. Needless to say, she had invited me – I'd never have the nerve for it to be the other way around. We went over the whole Susan Walker case, which the Princess was clearly still having trouble processing.

"It astonishes me," she said, "how people in Man's World can become so confused about what is true. On Paradise Island the difference between truth and falsehood always seemed so clear. Now, for the first time in my life, I have experienced such confusion myself."

Those amazing eyes looked directly into mine.

"Do you believe I was right to ask Susan about her true name, Inspector?" she asked. "It grieves me deeply that I may have caused her further pain."

Should I ask her to call me Ed now? I wondered. No, I decided. I liked hearing her call me "Inspector". It made my job feel noble, almost heroic.

"I think you were just trying to tie up loose ends, like a good detective," I said. "You couldn't have known how she would react. By the way – it's a shame, in a way, you never used your lasso on the girl. From what you've told me in the past, it would have gotten around anything, even mental illness, to reveal the truth about the baby."

The Princess sighed.

"As I told you before, Inspector, I can almost always tell when people are lying to me – even without the lasso," she explained. "Because Miriam, or Susan, was telling the truth as she believed it – even about her name – I had no indication that what she said was untrue. I never even thought of using the lasso."

"Something good came out of the whole mess, you know," I said.

She looked up at me, curious.

"A mother found her lost child. Although not the way we thought."

"True." She sipped her water, looking reflectively at me with those beautiful eyes. I lowered my eyes for a moment, but when I raised them hers were still gazing into mine.

"Be less sad, Inspector Indelicato," she said in that musical voice. "As you have said, something good – something joyful – has happened. We should be celebrating."

"Right," I said. "Waiter – champagne."

"I have never tasted this beverage before," Diana said when the bubbly arrived. "Is it a form of wine?"

"Yeah. It tickles your nose. In Man's World we drink it on special occasions, like when we want to make a toast."

"Toast?" Her smooth brow crinkled in puzzlement. "You partake of this drink when you intend to prepare slightly burned bread?"

I smiled – like an idiot, probably.

"No, a toast is when we express good wishes to someone, or a hope for the future, just before we drink."

"So it is something like a libation poured out to the gods," she mused.

And there's a goddess at this table with me, I thought.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Then to what shall we make a toast?" she asked.

I looked over at her, and for that moment it didn't matter that Mike and I would be spending the next few years rounding up drunken hookers and collaring coked-up pimps. It didn't matter that Miriam Nelson didn't exist, or that her child was already lost before we started looking for him. It didn't even matter that I would never have a chance with a lady like the one sitting across from me, not for as long as her gods occupied their Mount Olympus.

All that mattered was the moment, here and now.

"To joy," I said, lifting my glass.

"To joy," she repeated as I clinked my glass against hers. "And may all the lost ones come home."

THE END


End file.
